At the Dinner Table.
Father Sibyla wore a satisfied air. He moved along tranquilly, and his closed, thin lips showed no signs of disdain. On the other hand, the Franciscan was in a very bad humor. As he walked toward the table, he kicked over the chairs which happened to be in his way and boxed the ears of one of the cadets. The lieutenant was very solemn and grave.
The two friars instinctively started for the head of the table, perhaps by force of habit, and, as might have been expected, they met on opposite sides of the same chair. Then, with ponderous courtesy, each entreated the other to sit down, giving in turn his reasons why the other should take precedence. Every one at the table understood how both really felt in the matter, and all knew well that the one who did not take the coveted seat would grumble discontentedly for the remainder of the evening. The farce proceeded something like this:
“You take it, Brother Dámaso! It is for you!”
“No, you take it, Brother Sibyla!”
“You are an old friend of the family, the confessor of its deepest mysteries; your age, your dignity, your——”
“No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the other hand you are the priest of this suburb,” answered Father Dámaso in an insincere tone, without, however, leaving the chair.
“As you order it, I obey,” concluded Father Sibyla, making ready to sit down.
“But I do not order it,” protested the Franciscan, “I do not order it.”
Father Sibyla was about to take the seat without any further regard to the protests of his brother, when his eyes chanced to meet those of the lieutenant. According to the religious customs in the Philippines, the highest military officer is inferior to even a convent cook. “Cedent arma togæ,” said Cicero in the Senate. “Cedent arma cottæ,” say the friars in the Philippines. Father Sibyla, however, was a person of some culture and refinement, and, as soon as he noticed the expression on the lieutenant’s face, said: “Here! We are now out in the world, and not in the Church. This seat belongs to you, lieutenant!” But, to judge from the tone of his voice, he thought that, although he was out in the world and not in the Church, the seat nevertheless belonged to him. The lieutenant, either to save himself trouble or in order to avoid sitting between two friars, declined the honor in a very few words.